


Stellar Wind

by heroofthestory



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Angst, Background Femslash, Developing Relationship, Drama, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Breakdown, Mental Instability, Non-Linear Narrative, Out of Character, Romance, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:02:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25464409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heroofthestory/pseuds/heroofthestory
Summary: Before the new season, Zhenya decides to fully focus on getting ready for it. A romantic relationship is not a part of her plan; in her life, there is a place for training, but not for love. However, Yuzu has liked her for a long time, and he has other plans in this regard. Forgotten childhood love reignites unexpectedly, rapidly engaging both in a secret relationship that will soon change two lives. But will they be able to balance these feelings and their sport ambitions, or will they have to sacrifice something?
Relationships: Yuzuru Hanyu/Evgenia Medvedeva
Comments: 21
Kudos: 38





	1. Fix You

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Звёздный ветер](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25280365) by [heroofthestory](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heroofthestory/pseuds/heroofthestory). 



> Hi guys. This is a translation of my story written in Russian some time ago. I decided to give it a try. Though I'm not a translator, I thought that it may be good for me. Not sure how often I'll be able to post ... probably once in a while. I'll do my best but, as English is not my native language, there may be some mistakes. Feel free to point it out for me. 
> 
> Please do not read if you don't like drama/angst and crying. Some chapters have a lot of it.

_March 2022, Toronto_

Brian went up to the twenty-first floor of a modern apartment building and froze briefly in front of the big oak door, listening to what was happening behind it.

Nothing. Dead silence.

He turned a spare key in his hand, which he's had since his realtor helped with this apartment, though it was used only a couple of times and he never came uninvited, then sighed and yet put it in the keyhole. His heart was pounding over the bad thoughts stuck in his head lately, and he secretly hoped that she would hear him and come out herself, but something told him it wouldn't happen. She didn't answer his calls and messages, so their agreement was unlikely to be still valid.

He went inside, slowly and silently stepping on the tiles in the hallway. It was fresh and cool inside the apartment; perhaps a window was open somewhere. The living room was empty; the only thing that caught his eye were visible cracks coming from the very heart of a huge plasma TV, as if it was hit with something heavy. There was a wrinkled blanket on the sofa; aside from that, her place was amazingly clean. The cleaners must have come, he thought. There wasn't even a speck of dust on the numerous paintings of her on the walls.

Having walked up to the open bedroom, he froze on the threshold at the sight of her. She seemed to be deeply asleep, curled up in the middle of the large bed, which made her look even smaller. She didn't even cover herself with anything and he shivered, looking at her bare legs in the little shorts. She looked exactly like a teenager. Her muscles seemed to be completely gone, and it was hard to believe that it was the same body that had been so well-trained back in the fall. Her sleeping face resembled a face of a child, but not a young woman.

Her serenity was somehow attractive, but soon his gaze fell on the small bottle of pills on the bedside table and his heart ached. He knew that she's suffered from a sleep disorder and couldn't help but wonder how many she took this time.

“Zhenya,” he called, patting her shoulder. She opened her eyes, but it took her a while to realize where she was. Then she noticed him with her peripheral vision, twitched sharply and sat up in bed.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, irritated.

He looked at her with such concern that she didn't want to see on his face at all. “Get up. This can't go on any longer,” he said, calmly but sternly.

“Did you come to tell me this?” she grumbled, yet obeyed and put her feet on the floor. There was something in his order that reminded her of the old days, when he shouted, standing behind the boards, “Up, up, up!” It seems that for her he'll always remain a coach…

“Your mom messaged me. She's worried, you haven't been in touch for several days,” Orser said when she appeared in the hall. He looked into the fridge to check what she was eating. She had a lot of food, as if someone went shopping recently, but he strongly doubted that she ate it.

“And you decided to check if I’m dead,” she concluded. “We don't talk much with her now, you know.”

In fact, she didn't talk much to anyone now. She'd quarreled with everyone; most often, which actually was quite rare, she talked to Brian.

“What's that?” he ignored her comment, pointing to the TV.

“Hit right on target”. A faint semblance of a smile appeared on her face. “Didn't expect it myself.”

He just sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Well ... get dressed. As I already said, you need help.”

“I'm not going anywhere.”

“You're sure going. Don't you remember our agreement?”

She, of course, hadn't agreed on anything with him, but it seemed that he really liked this wording. Zhenya's definitely heard it coming from him more than once.

Brian quickly walked past her into the hallway, got her coat out of the closet and tried to shove it to her. But she stood with her arms crossed on her chest and it just fell to the floor. Then he picked it up and put it over her shoulders.

“You told me you'd stop it that time, remember? You swore. Zhenya, you can't do that, we're all worried. Your family, me …” He did not finish.

“Do you still believe in someone's vows?” she grumbled, knowing full well that she'd indeed sworn. Why had she done it? Most likely so he'd leave her alone.

He walked out into the hallway again, then returned and threw a pair of sneakers in front of her. But she had no intention of changing her cozy white slippers for them.

“As you wish,” he said and pushed her toward the front door.

“Is that normal?” she smirked indignantly. Brian literally pushed her out to the stairwell, holding her shoulder tightly. He did not have to make efforts to keep her though, she was too thin and weak. “It's illegal, you know? Kidnapping is a criminal offence.”

“I’m not here only because of your mom,” he finally answered as they were taking the elevator. “I really want to help you”. The fact that she didn't particularly resist gave him a little hope that she herself was ready to be helped.

But she only snickered, looking extremely indifferent and tired.

It frightened him a little that she was so silent. She didn’t even ask where exactly he took her, and also, without question, got into his car with a driver. He was almost sure though: she knew this was what they talked about when they last met.

They both sat in the back seat but Zhenya moved as far away from him as possible and leaned against the window. He could tell she was getting really sleepy. She'd fallen asleep just a couple of hours before he appeared which simply wasn't enough. At the same time, she wasn't sure she's woken up at all: things were a bit surreal.

“I know what you’re doing,” she said quietly, rubbing the condensated window with her finger. “Trying to make amends. Do you think they sell indulgences there?

“Zhenya,” he sighed. “I'm terribly sorry and you know that. I hope someday you'll understand me and maybe even forgive …”

“I do understand,” she interrupted. Her voice sounded like she was desperately fighting sleep. “And I have nothing to forgive you for. If I were you, I would've done the same. But if that's what you want to hear, I forgive you, no matter what you've done. Just don’t tell me the details. I don’t want to know about it. Let me ... remember you another way”.

“Let me have a better opinion of you,” he heard. Well, that was absolutely fair. He wanted to say something in return but bit his tongue. Her words touched his very heart, which hasn't ceased to ache for her not for a minute in the last few months. It wasn't only about him. She's broken so many hearts with her story. First made them fall in love with her, enslaved their souls, and then ... tore it to pieces.

He wanted to tell her how many people love her and how they worry about her, but he didn't dare, afraid it would sound like some kind of an accusation. A few minutes later, when he turned to Zhenya he found her asleep with her head down. He took her cold little palm and squeezed it in his, looking out the window, concerned, as they were driving out of the city.


	2. Now Is The Time

_Summer 2019_

This relationship might have never started if it were not for the three points:  
1) she was bored;  
2) she wanted love;  
3) he suddenly took the offensive.

But first of all she certainly was bored. The spring and June shows were over, and her entire summer consisted of continuous training and sitting at home as there was nothing more to do. Of course, she used to get bored before, because the whole previous year had passed in the same way, but it was this summer when, unlike the past, everything's already turned into a routine and in the evenings melancholy has begun to wash over her. Tired after class, she often lay on the couch in the living room and thought about how she could have spent this evening if she were not alone.

She could no longer hide behind the fact that she was lonely due to lack of time. She had it: after all, she didn't train 24 hours a day. Once she's set her mind that being alone is better for her career, but as she got older she began to wonder if this was right. She knew many guys who managed to balance personal life with career. If they succeeded, then why couldn't she? Right there, however, she stopped herself: you are not them ... Someone could safely skate with a couple of extra pounds and land every jump. Someone thought that there was no need to work hard in the gym. Someone allowed themselves a glass of wine at dinner. In Zhenya's life, everything was subject to certain strict rules, without which it was simply impossible to continue skating. And even despite this, this daily routine work, painstaking care of her body, she didn't always succeed. She just couldn't afford to relax. But who knows ... maybe that was the problem?

There were always guys by her side: she could choose anyone, they were always hanging around her just like annoying puppies. She was already tired of friend-zoning them, feeling as an evil heartbreaker. But what could she do? They still weren't men but just boys. Well, except for one of them ... but, for some reasons he was a ban established by herself. Yuzuru Hanyu was very handsome and interesting, but getting close to him was unsafe not only for her career, but perhaps for her life too. So contrary to fan beliefs, there was nothing but companionship between them ... at least until this summer.

They've been mates for a very long time; she didn't even remember which joint competition it has started with. However, they haven't been friends: their encounters were very rare and also both spoke English too poorly, which complicated communication. What they've had in common is mutual respect and, admittedly, sympathy. Perhaps once she was a little in love with him, in a childish way, sincerely admiring him, and she could swear that he saw it but ... then she was just a child for him. Not that she was worried about it, she just remembered it then, as if to torment him in the future.

And then the Olympics happened. This is where he was as kind and attentive to her as possible. Zhenya knew perfectly well, he just didn't want her to be sad. Maybe he just gave her too much attention, thus letting her (and not only her) suspect something more. It seemed to her that his attitude changed then, because he no longer treated her like a child. And she wasn't one; she was already eighteen, while at heart, perhaps, twenty-eight. Memories of the way he was being with her then occupied a special place in her heart. Even after the change of coach, even during the period of all abnormal rumors about them, even when their relationship didn't resemble that time in any way and she didn't have any moral resources to think about relationships in general, the memories lived on ... And she was still grateful to him for that time because looking back, she wasn't sure that she'd have endured those days without his support. Indeed, sometimes a person needs to do so little for us but at a very specific moment so that we remember this for the rest of our lives ...

And yet, she wanted love. “Love is necessary for all living beings,” her grandmother often said. “It is as if we don’t live without love. That's why everyone is so eager to find it.” And Zhenya could deny for a long time that she needed it, but ... she was also a mere mortal, and by the age of twenty, the absence of love in her life began to weigh her down. She had no idea how people find love and how to combine love and skating. It has always seemed to her it's necessary to sacrifice something, that you cannnot have everything at once. But this didn't change the fact that she really wanted to know what it feels like when someone loves you.

His attention has returned sometime after the World Championship The whole season they talked to each other only about training, and nothing in his behavior hinted that she might be interesting to him as a woman. But as soon as the season ended, something changed. She often caught him looking at her and at these moments, he didn't look away but smiled at her. He began to speak with her more often, to advise something, and it even seemed to her that he was making more effort with English than before. “Oh no,” was her first thought when she noticed his attention. “I’m not up to it now, especially with you.” His fans already attacked her with hateful messages after their photos from the banquet, and there were still Japanese shows ahead, so she had to be careful.

She was determined about that. She didn't want a single rumor about them, so the brilliant offer of the show organizers to skate with Hanyu as a pair during a group performance was nipped in the bud, and her partner was replaced. She avoided him in public by all means, especially after receiving another hate message along with her gifts. She, of course, couldn't be one hundred percent sure that it was done by one of his fans, but caution wasn't excessive anyway. It seemed to bother him a little, although she believed that he should've understood everything.

At the end of the last show, he caught her backstage when she was left all alone. They both were still in their costumes; a rush of adrenaline made her heart beat faster, and she felt tired but inspired. He walked over and touched her shoulder, making her flinch.

“Will you stop ignoring me now?” he asked with a smile. Zhenya caught sadness in it.

“Yuzu ... I hope you understand there's nothing personal. I just …” she paused, biting her lip, “I don't want them to eat me.”

“I know.”

“If you know, then why are you asking?” she thought, feeling displeased as she blushed under his gaze. “Why are you staring like that?”

“W-what?” she finally uttered, having realized he wasn't going to stop.

“Nothing,” he smiled at her again with his boyish smile. “I just wanted to say that you're insanely pretty, that's all.” And he reached out for her and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear like it was nothing, and then just walked away.

She stood there for several minutes, frozen, with wide eyes, and only one question was spinning in her head, “What the hell was it now? What … was … it?” Her cheeks were burning, and she glanced around, hoping that no one saw it. But everyone had gone to the dressing rooms, and only somewhere in the distance the technical staff was busy with some kind of wires.

Later, having already calmed down, she was laying in the darkness in her room, going over this one-minute scene in her head. Having found it rather arrogant, since he usually didn't allow himself extra touching, she nonetheless admitted that somehow she even liked it. There was something about the way he looked at her that caused her rapid heart rate. And remembering he was her childhood love, she, against her better judgement, felt some kind of triumph.

But that certainly didn't mean she was going to be with him.

No. Of course not. She was completely focused on preparing for the season, she needed to train quadruple jumps and new combinations while she had time, she needed to learn Japanese, English, cook the right food, read books, and so on … In general, do anything but just not date Yuzuru Hanyu.

This is if you think straight. But sometimes at nights, when her brain shut off, she let herself think how it could be if she weakened her defenses.

Perhaps, only perhaps, they would be great together. Perhaps they could be happy. Yes, they would have to keep it in secret but actually, she would do it with anyone: she didn't want her personal life to go public. Besides, she really enjoyed talking to him. He was clearly very smart and attentive, and they had a similar sense of humor: he understood her silly jokes, and she understood his. He also had a gorgeous body, especially hips and ... arms; yes, these graceful, delicate, sometimes kind of boneless arms were her peculiar fetish. She adored them. She'd give anything to have arms like that, but anyway was happy with the fact that she could just look at them. Overall, he was very attractive. So sometimes she let herself dream that there might be something between them. But only after their retirement.

It was terribly illogical, and she knew it. Firstly, because when she retires, she was determined to return to her homeland, and he, as far as she knew, had the same plan. So they will have no chance in a few years.

Secondly, what made her think that she'd still attract him then? Guys tend to lose interest over time, if you continue to ignore them: someone faster, someone not; but the point was that those who were trying to win her at least a couple of years ago have already disappeared without a trace. “So he most likely will give up soon,” thought Zhenya, having completely forgotten that she was dealing with a two-time Olympic champion.

Well, and thirdly (it was the most ridiculous), how did she even know that he really liked her? Maybe he was just friendly with her? Or they suddenly were in an alternate universe? For what it's worth, there was only one way to figure it out, and despite all signs and intuition telling her it wouldn't do any good, for some reason she decided to give it a try.


	3. The Biggest Fan

_19-21 February 2022, Toronto_

The men's singles skating was the only competition she watched of the entire Olympics. All other disciplines have ceased to be of interest to her, despite the fact that there competed skaters with whom she once communicated and even was friends. Zhenya found out quite by chance who won gold among women, but this news didn't cause any reaction in her. She felt absolutely nothing. Her heart was so empty, as if there was a supervoid inside. Who would've thought that everything would become so unimportant in such a short period of time?

But one thing she couldn't miss, feeling the need to correspond to the title that she gave herself two years ago. It was before the World championship, which she didn't qualify for. “Are you going to watch me?” he asked.

“Sure thing,” she replied, “how can I not? I'm your biggest fan.” 

And he exhaled with relief, “You have to watch. Otherwise I won't be so good.” 

Eventually, she even went there, cheered for him from the stands and nearly lost her mind, over-exited.

That evening, when he won his third World title, she was jumping happily on a huge soft bed in his hotel room, and in the morning he was late for the gala rehearsal because they made love for too long. It seemed so long ago … like in a past life.

So she did watch the Olympics. Partly because of him and partly to feel alive again. There were some ways to achieve the latter: they were effective but not very healthy. But in this case, all she had to do was watch TV.

Yuzu was first after the short program, but knowing it meant absolutely nothing, she was extremely worried all day, as if she herself was competing. This anxiety finally awakened her half-alive heart a little, accelerated its rate. By the time the free program started, it was her second day without sleep and she wasn't thinking clearly already, but during his warm-up, her head cleared up, she rubbed her eyes and got stuck to the screen, sitting on the floor in front of a large TV. 

Every time she saw a close-up of him she flinched: he was terribly focused and self-absorbed, didn't react to the audience and didn't seem to notice anyone at all, while somehow maneuvering between his rivals. In his shiny black suit, he looked like a clot of dark energy, rushing from one side of the rink to the other. Later, during the performance, his mood transmitted to her and she realized: he really was there alone. At this huge Olympic arena decorated in red, he simply didn't and couldn't have rivals. One-on-one with himself, and that's it.

She anticipated his every move; she knew this program like the back of her hand. _Eternal light,_ that's how the music was called; but it was dark, disturbing, and giving shivers. He truly polished his program, and she knew perfectly well how much work had been done for those four minutes on the ice. When he finished, the operator caught for a moment his empty gaze in the final pose, but he immediately lowered his eyes, not letting anyone look into them.

With the same eyes, she was blankly watching everything that happened after, with him and their team that was so dear and at the same time so distant; how worry on their faces was finally replaced by joy, how they cried with relief when they saw the scores. It was exactly a relief: she knew what they went through as coaches on their way to this gold. The most difficult Olympic season in their lives, all thanks to their favorite athletes.

A sense of guilt washed over her again at the thought of how much they didn't deserve all of that. No, she had no right to consider herself a part of them. It wasn't her team anymore. She remembered what Brian told her the last time they saw each other, “You are my sorrow, Zhenya.” And being someone's sorrow was, to put it mildly, sad. But she didn't want to be it anymore, so congratulations she was about to send him were erased just in time: there was no need to remind of herself now. She wouldn't write to _him_ too, but knowing that the message wouldn't reach him, sent it. “Congratulations. Hope it was worth everything.” In fact, she hated being this bitchy ex that sends her stupid messages at the worst possible time, but as their chat had long turned into her monologue, there was no need to worry about him reading this. Besides, every time she wrote something there, she felt a bit relieved.

However, not this time. After he won, her heart beat too fast, abnormally fast, making it difficult not only to think but even to breathe. She was lying on a soft black carpet, looking at the ceiling, but it didn't want to calm down at all. On the TV, some discussions continued in French, which she fortunately didn't understand; she wanted to sleep terribly, but as soon as she closed her eyes, either some visions or memories started torturing her. An hour ago, she'd taken a couple of sleeping pills that obviously didn't help, then one more, and one more but nothing helped. At some point, she became afraid that she'd never fall asleep again in her life.

Then she got up, slowly walked to the fridge, opened a bottle of vodka that had been there since the dawn of time, and took a drink. And then she fell asleep for thirty hours right in the kitchen.

***

The best thirty hours of her life ended with high-pitched squeals in Spanish. She smelled alcohol nearby. Having opened her eyes with great effort, she saw Sylvia, her cleaning lady, shouting into the phone. “Oh, gosh,” was the first thing that flashed through her head, “I'd died and gone to hell. Who's she calling?” Zhenya tried to move but her body felt as if it turned to stone. Finally, she managed to sit up and thus drew the attention of the Mexican who quickly muttered something into the phone and ended the call with her fat finger.

However, to Zhenya's dismay, she immediately began a new one. “Forgive me for God's sake,” she screamed in English with a strong accent, wiping her eyes with a tissue. “She woke up! Woke up, good Lord! I thought she was dead, please forgive me. I was so scared! Yes, I'm here with her …”

“Sylvia, who are you calling?” Zhenya asked, clearing her throat. Her head was pounding and she had a bad feeling. “Hang up, please.”

Looking around, she realized that she'd been sleeping on the floor by the fridge. The smell of alcohol was coming from a bottle of vodka smashed nearby, the same one she drank ... when? She felt it wasn't so long ago. “Who are you talking to?” she asked again.

“Oh, how you scared me, miss Evgenia,” Sylvia finally noticed her. “I thought this is the end … I almost had a heart attack because of you! Went in and saw you lying here … I called your dad immediately.”

“My dad?”

“Who else? He'll come and deal with you soon.”

“Sylvia,” suddenly, Zhenya had a sick feeling, and even her head cleared up somehow, “did you call Brian?” Sylvia nodded, still holding her cell phone, distraught. “But how? He's in China now, at … at the Olympics …”

The woman sat down and touched her forehead. “I don’t know what you mean, miss, but he’s here. And he's on his way.”

“What day is it today?” Zhenya irritably threw off her hand.

“February twenty first.”

“Oh my god,” she breathed, “Sylvia, what have you done? Please call him again and tell him not to come. No need to come,” she repeated slowly. “No, you better give it to me! I'll message him. Or call. I'm fine, can't you see?” with these words, she tried to get up but failed. The dizziness made her fall back on the floor, her hand hitting the shards of the glass. The cuts started to bleed instantly.

Sylvia hissed something in Spanish that sounded like a curse, quickly grabbed a roll of paper towels and knelt down beside her.

“You should go to the hospital, miss,” she said, puzzled. “You're not okay. I saw your pills. And alcohol? It hasn't done any good to anyone yet.”

“It's okay,” Zhenya muttered, albeit without much confidence. Her eyes filled with tears of shame and resentment. How did she end up like that? “I'm tough. I'm an athlete.” Well, it sounded comical.

“What kind of athlete are you? You're a mess” Sylvia sighed, throwing away the third bloody towel. “Doesn't it hurt you?” she wondered, as Zhenya didn't pay any attention to her cuts.

And then she burst into tears: not because of her hand, but because of shame, and her worthlessness, and the fact that she let all this happen, that couldn't foresee, and most importantly … that she would appear in this state in front of Brian. By this time, she already understood how it all looked like and what one might imagine. And though he'd already seen her in different pathetic states, it didn't make it easier. The fact that she'll cause him problems again, especially now that he should deservedly rest and be happy, made her want to disappear. At the end of the day, she didn't want to be his sorrow. She dreamed that he'd be proud of her. But all she could do now was cry her heart out.

Later that evening, she wound up in the hospital, severely dehydrated. Because when he arrived, it quickly became clear that he wouldn't let it lie.


	4. Not A Sweetheart

_August 2019, Toronto_

They went on their first so-called date only because she had a bad day. And if at first glance it didn't make any sense, as she had never planned to stay with him after training, later she understood why this happened. She showed a weakness. Perhaps, deep down, she had been thinking about it for quite some time, but still steadfastly continued to resist, and then … he took advantage of the moment.

Everything has gone wrong since the morning. Maybe she just woke up on the wrong side of the bed, as her mother said; maybe it was Mercury in retrograde or some other nonsense that she didn't believe in; but disturbing thoughts have tormented her from the very moment she opened her eyes. “What's wrong with you? Pull yourself together,” she told herself angrily, knowing full well that anger hadn't brought her anything good for a really long time. The competitive anger that fueled her when she was younger was no longer available to her, and the new one, more like self-criticism, was a real plague not only for her mind, but also for her body. A quadruple salchow that she landed just last week, didn't work anymore, and she fell painfully enough a couple of times already, making those present shudder. She was out of shape today, but couldn't find a reason. When she fell doing a spin combination, her eyes involuntarily welled up with tears. Zhenya quickly blinked it back, remaining on the ice, when a figure in black appeared next to her.

“Not your day?” Yuzu stopped a few feet away from her, legs wide apart and arms crossed on his chest.

They hardly spoke all day, which barely reminded their usual communication, but he knew there must have been reasons for this.

“How did you notice?” she muttered, squinting, and stood up before he would offer his help.

“I've been watching you,” he smiled, either not noticing her sarcasm, or ignoring it.

“Shouldn't you be watching _yourself_?” Zhenya asked, as they moved slowly along the board, leg to leg.

“I have time for both”.

She looked at him seriously, but quickly took her eyes off. Why'd he need to say something that hinted at his feelings?

“Apparently, now you'll give me a couple of wise advice?” she grumbled, looking at her feet. It sounded rude. _Stop being like that with him,_ she scolded herself.

“No. I just wanted to … ” Yuzu paused as if he wasn’t sure whether to say it or not, but finally did, “I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“What made you think I am not?” _Here we go again. Why did she act like a bitch?_

Yuzu didn't answer, just smirked slightly. She could be pretty nasty but it just amused him.

They finished a full circle in complete silence; he saw she was lost in her thoughts and didn't want to disturb her. The training session was over, and almost no one was left on the ice.

“You probably think that I'm all cute, and positive, and just a sweetheart?” she asked, suddenly annoyed, and then stopped. “Surprise, I'm not always like that”.

He could safely say that she wasn't going to say this, and the next moment her face confirmed it. She shyly looked down, biting her lower lip.

“I don’t think so,” he replied.

“You don't?” she seemed a little surprised now. Yuzu hoped he didn't hurt her with that, but he really didn't agree with her words. She was definitely not a sweetheart. Having watched her during the year, he's seen her in a lot of moods, and this was clearly not the word to describe her. It was foolish of her to underestimate him so much. “What am I like then?” she asked defiantly.

Yuzu was silent for a while, wondering whether to tell her or not, but in the end he came to a more interesting solution. “I'll tell you if you agree to get dinner with me.”

Now she was definitely surprised. “Get dinner with you? But where?”

“It's safe, don't be afraid. And completely confidential. I promise you'll love the food.”

She thought for a few seconds that still seemed very long to him. He was actually ready that she'd turn him down again, because it's what she usually did, keeping flirting with him from time to time. She liked playing cat-and-mouse games with him. However, what she didn't know was that he liked it too, because he knew that one day he'd catch her and it would worth the wait.

“Okay,” she shrugged. “I agree.”

“I'll be waiting for you in the underground parking when you finish,” he smiled contentedly and was the first to leave the ice, while she was still standing there and thinking why she'd agreed.

***

It was a tiny Japanese restaurant on the outskirts of Toronto, where they got in no more than ten minutes. They were taken there by his driver, who didn't say a word the whole way. He only listened to directions given to him in Japanese and followed it silently. When they arrived, he went out with them, escorted them through a narrow street to the back door and ... stayed. “Are we going to have dinner altogether?” Zhenya thought but didn't ask, impressed by what was happening.

They were met by an old Japanese man, apparently the owner and the chief. Judging by their interaction with Yuzu, she concluded that they've known each other for a long time. The man bowed to her in silence, but from the look he gave her she realized that she was an unexpected guest. There was nothing disapproving or impolite about it, just a subtle surprise, which she nevertheless picked up on. And she couldn't help but wonder if Yuzu had brought anyone else there.

They came over to one of the four tables in a dimly lit room that wasn't at all Japanese in design. She noticed that the “open” sign at the main entrance was turned inwards. She took a sit on a wooden bench opposite Yuzu. The driver sat at another table a little further from them and stuck his nose in a phone.

“I know the place doesn't look particularly cool,” Yuzu said first.

“Actually, quite the opposite ... I've never been to such places. Where is the menu?”

“Oh, I've already ordered,” he smiled shyly. “Didn't you hear? I thought you were learning Japanese!”

“I hardly understood a word,” she admitted. “Learning languages turned out to be more difficult than I thought …”

“I'm kidding, Zhenya. If you accepted my help though, you'd make progress much faster.”

Zhenya rolled her eyes, remembering how many times he offered to tutor her but she refused. She just couldn't imagine it: sitting next to him with a textbook, following his instructions. Wouldn't that be too ... intimate? It is unlikely that she would think about studying.

“I'm studying with a tutor. By the way, Jason is also learning Japanese, you know. I wonder if you offered him your help too?”

“Of course not,” he chuckled. “Don't get me wrong, Jason is a good guy, but I’m not very interested in him.”

“Oh ... So you are interested in me?” she asked.

“In case you haven't noticed.”

Zhenya clearly remembered at that very moment, when their eyes met, her heart skipped a beat for the first time in a really long time, something that she certainly didn't plan to experience in the foreseeable future. “Damn, why now?” she thought, completely unprepared for this.

The evening became really good when they got food. His choice was exquisite, and before she tried it, she didn't even realize how hungry she was. They were chatting about all sorts of nonsense, such as the dishes names, and she felt calm ... and maybe even a little happy?

“I'm sorry that I acted like a bitch today,” she said when the tea was served. She was grateful that he didn't recall her today's failures, but felt the need to apologize. “I didn't mean to. It's just a stupid day ... it was, I mean.”

“Not anymore?” he asked.

“No,” Zhenya smiled.

“Are you leaving in a few days?” He was referring to the open skates on the first weekend of September. She had to fly home a little earlier though, because it was preceded by another test skates, hold behind closed doors, solely in front of the federation. Yuzuru knew there would be a massacre.

“Yes, in four, to be exact.”

“Are you worried?”

“What do you think? This year, in terms of pressure, it's going to be like the national championship, no less.”

“What's the real championship then?” he asked. “Like … an Olympics?”

“Worse,” she laughed. “At the Olympics, in fact, I had only one rival. In December at the home championship there'll be at least five of them.”

He wanted to cheer her up in response, but didn't know the words that would be correct. He was well aware of the level of competition in her national team, and it seemed that whatever he said, it would sound like a consolation that she didn't need. All she could do was do what she was capable of and keep learning new things.

“Just do what you should. The rest is not up to you,” he said and unconsciously reached out for her across the table. Not quite realizing what she's doing, Zhenya put her hand on top of his.

When it hit her what she'd done, it was too late to take it back, especially given that this somehow made her feel good and warm. This whole evening made her feel good. Why had she resisted it for so long? Resisted and wanted at the same time. It was so stupid. She was probably just a coward, although she wasn't used to thinking of herself that way. However, concerning her own feelings, she definitely was a coward. She'll be afraid of it, deny it till the last, until she's knocked over by a giant snowball of feelings that'll roll down with her.

It was already getting dark outside when they left the restaurant. Having gone outside, she looked back at the inconspicuous entrance, trying to keep this place in her memory. There was something unusual, secret about it, different from places she usually visited. She'd really like to come back here again.

In the car, Yuzuru said that they would take her home and asked for her address. She was surprised when he put on the hood of his sweatshirt and went out too to walk her inside. Until not long ago, he'd been the last person whom she'd expected to see in her apartment building, and now, here he was, standing like everything's normal and waiting for the elevator with her.

And then she remembered. “You never told me!” _How could she forget?_

“What exactly?” It even seemed to her he got a little nervous.

“You promised to tell what I'm like but you never did!”

“Oh, I didn't try to … It just slipped my mind! You thought that I tricked you?” Now he was smiling.

“It did cross my mind,” she admitted, wondering why she couldn't stop smiling back. “Maybe you failed to think up what to tell me?”

“I don’t have to think it up,” Yuzu laughed. “I know that for sure.” She looked at him expectantly, and he continued, “You might not like it ... but I don’t think you’re that cute, let alone positive.” Then he suddenly turned serious. “You can be sometimes ... maybe twenty percent of time. But more often you pretend. I think you're actually a little ... depressed? I don't know what to call it, but I can see it in your eyes. This ... darkness. I'm pretty sure that you feel lonely here, which is why you're so sad at times. You can also get angry … and even a little bitchy,” with these words his grin returned again. “You're definitely stubborn, brave, strong-minded. And hot. But most importantly, you're passionate and one hundred percent dedicated to what you do. This is why I like you so much.”

And while she stood completely struck by his words, he pressed his lips against hers. Just for a couple of seconds, but a wave of heat immediately went through her entire body, making her heart skip a beat. And then he wished her goodnight and left. 

The signal of the elevator finally brought her back to earth. Once inside, she leaned her back against the cold metal wall and closed her eyes, not knowing at all what to do now, because she liked him too and she could no longer deny it.


	5. Your Motivation

_September 2019, Oakville_

The first competition of the season, although it went quite smoothly and, one might say, successfully, has left a slightly bitter aftertaste. Autumn Classic was just an island of tranquility and peace of mind after what was happening in Moscow at the test skates. Here, she didn't feel pressure and didn't get jumpy at all; she just went and did what she could, enjoying it. But ... that was not enough.

It just so happened that they'd barely communicated until the event was over for both. First they came to Oakville separately, and then agreed not to bother each other during the competition, and in the end didn't even see each other after the short program. It was probably easier for both of them, although it was her who insisted on it. Less unnecessary thoughts, less distraction.

She's never had issues with focus in her entire life. There was skating, and there was everything else. But now there was Yuzuru Hanyu, who didn't fit the second category at all. Rather, he stood apart from everything, and so far she didn't quite understand how to deal with it.

She, of course, thought of him, and thought often after that fleeting kiss that never happened again. The last few days before departure, they trained together and she tried to act as usual, so that no one notices anything, but she couldn't help but feel a certain falseness in herself. Sometimes this falseness, her pretence there was nothing at all between them was so strong that she began to think it might look more suspicious than their normal communication. These thoughts made her nervous but she no longer knew what she was worried about: there was confusion in her heart, and in the end she didn't think of anything better than push her feelings into the farthest corner of her soul. At least for a while. She needed to focus on herself and her work now.

But despite this, she was very much looking forward to the evening when the event would end and the medals given. They were staying in Oakville until the next day, and they were finally going to have time to see each other.

 _Meet me at the bar?_ he wrote in their chat in the evening, and immediately got a reply.

_No way! Have you lost your mind?_

She at once received a lot of laughing emoji, and then he facetimed her.

“Then come to me,” he said, and she could see that he was lying on the bed, the same as hers, holding the phone above him.

“What do you take me for?” She pretended to be offended by his proposal.

“Why?”

“It's ten twenty in the evening, and you're inviting a girl to your room. What should she think, in your opinion?”

“I don't know?” he smiled. “Nothing? I just want to see you. Talk to you. Watch a movie with you. It's so weird to be literally on the same floor and facetime.”

“Yes … it's true,” she sighed. Soon they won't have this opportunity, she reminded herself. “Fine, where do I go?”

Zhenya left the room in what she was wearing, halfway regretting that she'd removed her make-up and hadn't changed. In the hallway, as luck would have it, she met Brian who was walking towards her, holding a mobile to his ear. She put on a friendly smile and wished him good night, passing by, but then for some reason looked back ... and saw that he looked back, too. _Damn_ , she thought, quickly turning the corner. No, he, of course, wasn't their daddy that watches what his children do at night, but she wanted to be seen by as few people as possible.

Then she realized she was standing right opposite Yuzu's room and knocked quietly.

He opened almost instantly, and she came in at once. When the door was locked, he drew her into a hug, and suddenly she realized how much she missed him. He held her so tightly, so close, and smelled so good that she wanted to ask him not to let her go at all. But that was exactly what he did the next moment. Loosened his grip. She instantly looked up and met his black eyes scanning her face. They were studying each line on it until they rested on her lips. And without even realizing it, she reached out for him and kissed.

He was sweet in a very real sense—it was the first and only thing on her mind while they were kissing. His hands on her waist were sending warmth spreading throughout her body, her cheeks were flaming, and she herself didn't notice how close they got. It wasn't even close, their bodies were pressed to each other, but it wasn't enough anymore. His lips slipped and trailed hot kisses down her jaw line, making her breathe faster. She felt that he was smiling, and when she opened her eyes, she saw that she wasn't mistaken.

“I missed you,” she burst out.

“I missed you too”.

Then Zhenya noticed his gold medal in the shape of a maple leaf on the bedside table. “Oh, yes … congrats!”

“On what?” He followed her gaze. “Ah, you mean this ... Thank you.”

“Ah, you mean this,” she mocked. “Yeah, just another gold, nothing unusual. Autumn Classics? This is a warm-up for me.”

Yuzu laughed at the way she imitated him, and especially the way she sounded. She somehow managed to mimic his accent.

“If you keep joking about that ...” he warned.

“Then what?”

“I’ll also congratulate you … on another silver,” he said.

Of course, he wouldn't have said it if he hadn't been sure that she wouldn't be offended. As he'd expected, her eyes flashed, and she took a step towards him, about to push him with her hands. He caught them just in time, capturing her wrists.

“But seriously, it was beautiful,” Yuzu said. “Satomi-san has outdone herself with this dress.”

“Have you already watched?” For some reason she was surprised.

“Yes. A few times.”

“No way! It's not true,” Zhenya smiled.

“And why is that?!” If she knew how many times he's watched her in his life, then she probably would be shocked. “I can’t re-watch what I like?”

In fact, he was about to say something different, but stopped himself in time. It seemed to him that she was already embarrassed by his comments, which was, of course, quite funny, because she was rarely seen embarrassed, or blushing, or not knowing what to say. She was usually the complete opposite. But with him, she could be different, and he found it simply charming.

“Perhaps you can,” she muttered, remembering how much figure skating he watched. He was a real fan.

“Wanna watch it again together?” he suggested for fun, but she instantly burned a hole through him with her gaze. She didn't really like to re-watch herself, especially in someone's company. “Okay, I'm kidding, let's choose something else. Actually I have an idea,” he said and nodded to the bed, “make yourself comfortable.”

***

Barely a quarter of the movie passed when Zhenya fell asleep next to him. Yuzu noticed it when her head nearly fell off his shoulder, and laid her on the pillow. Without waking up, she put her arms around it and curled up. At that moment, he could say for sure that the film ceased to interest him, because all he could look at was the girl lying in his bed and her gorgeous legs in sport shorts.

For a moment it seemed to him that all of this was an illusion, because by no means she could be there: it just defied common sense. How come that a couple of years ago she was just a girl to play around with during the competitions, and now she's the one that means too much to him? Was from distant Russia—ended up in the same club as him. From a teenager turned to a woman. From a girl dreaming of the Olympics—to a two-time silver medalist. From a promising junior … to his favorite figure skater.

That's what he wanted to tell her, but was afraid to confess. He was used to keeping his mouth shut about such things; the world just shouldn't have known it. But saying it to her face was also difficult. It was such a confession ... something like a declaration of love for him.

Yuzuru had no idea where this was going. Probably, for the first time in his life, something got so out of control that he let himself give in to some kind of irrational feelings. When he thought about it, he often remembered a child's drawing hanging in Tracy's office. Probably, it wasn't even drawn by a child; it was just that the style was childish: it showed a cartoony black cat walking on its hind legs with a suitcase and a backpack. “I don’t know where I'm going, but I'm on the right track,” was written on it. And if earlier Yuzu looked at it and thought how strange, almost unacceptable this phrase sounds, later he realized that this is a very accurate description of what happens when you follow your heart.

And his heart wanted her; it was taken—to the dismay, perhaps, of almost the whole world. The worst thing was he didn't even know how long it lasted: sometimes it seemed that not so long, and sometimes that it's always been like that. But one thing he knew for sure: he hasn't wanted anything as much as to be with her, for a really long time.

He survived the whole season somewhere near and at the same time at a distance, but couldn't stand it anymore. He didn't bother her—he couldn't afford himself, seeing how much she had to cope with. But he was watching her and again—again—came to the conclusion that she was admirable. She motivated him. Pushed him to work on himself. Who would think it was possible?

Today he was asked again what motivates him to continue, a question that has been asked by the media on several occasions. He answered something that he's always answered, rearranging the words, including a couple of synonyms—they should've bought it. But what was an honest answer to this question?

He remembered how, at the beginning of the previous season, all that he wanted to do was jump a quadruple axel and retire. And then he began to follow her, amazed at how she was trying to get back on her feet. Not that he was comparing himself to her—no, the comparison was inappropriate. However, she really motivated him. By doing what no one else would do. She picked herself up, still wanting to get better, although she was told that the best she was capable of, she had already shown. No, she hasn't.

And he hasn't either. And it was not at all about an axel. They both had more to say in this sport, whether people liked it or not.

How many were sick of him over the long years of his career? He stuck in the throats of hundreds. Although her career was shorter, Zhenya had a similar story, but people were tougher with her because she was a girl. After all, everyone was used to the fact that girls don't skate for long and get replaced so often. This is why her desire to continue at twenty was met with hostility. But he believed in her and—a little bit selfishly—hoped that she wouldn't retire soon, because without her by his side, he knew it'd be more difficult.

Yuzu turned off the movie and sat next to her a bit longer, looking at her face while he had the opportunity. He noticed how often, when he looked at her for too long, she felt uncomfortable. She didn't understand—didn't understand how much he liked what he saw. He was wondering if she realized how deep it was. What did she think of all that? These thoughts made him so excited that he couldn't sleep at all. He stood up carefully, trying not to wake her up, covered her legs with a blanket, and made himself comfortable on the sofa. There he decided to do what was more or less clear to him. He found a full video of today's competition and began to watch it on his tablet.


	6. Fear and Falling in Love

_September 2019, Toronto_

It was a bit scary how fast things kind of snowballed for them. Considering she didn't plan to date anyone at all, but wanted to focus on her career, her own thoughts and actions lately made Zhenya think about her own sanity. How did she let this start? Was she out of her mind when she agreed to have dinner with him? When let him kiss her? When slept in his hotel room? Something made her act with him in such a way that she barely thought what she was doing, and only having done, wondered why. It was a completely idiotic feeling that she had not experienced for a long time, and never—to such an extent. _She was starting to fall in love with him,_ and it was unbearable and exciting at the same time. To resist, however, was useless, as she already understood.

Yuzuru, unlike her, has long accepted his feelings and didn't resist it as he once did. He's been in love with her for several months; he's had time to get used to it. All he cared about was if she felt the same way. He wasn't at all sure about that, and it often tormented him that he didn't know the answer to such an important question. He needed to figure out what was happening between them—from her point of view. But to ask her about that turned out more difficult than he thought.

It might've been a little narcissistic, but he had no doubt that she liked him. However, firstly, it wasn't enough, and secondly, she had this amazing ability to pretend that she barely knew him that was thought-provoking. She was undoubtedly a great actress, but the way she skillfully ignored him in public was quite something. Even Yuzu couldn't do that. She was incredibly careful, and how scared she must've been that someone might find out about them was a little heartbreaking.

What has he gotten her into? Was she ready for this? He didn't know. Yes, she's strong and has her own head on the shoulders, she can decide herself whether she needs it or not; but somehow he felt responsible. But should he have stopped? He didn't even think about it. In his selfish manner, Yuzu wanted to get her more than anything, and he wasn't going to give up.

One Saturday night, when her training was over, he showed up at the Cricket Club on his day off and took her home to have dinner together. If Zhenya had known about this, she'd never have agreed (later she justified herself by the fact that she was too hungry and tired to think straight).

In fact, he didn't plan it either. He thought that they'd have dinner at a restaurant but then, when he saw her, something snapped in him and he suddenly wanted to cook for her. Basically, every time he saw her wearing something else than training clothes, he was smitten, but that day she was in a short plaid skirt and a white crop top, and it was a shot in the head. Despite her wearing more revealing outfits on the ice, in daily life it made a completely different impression. Her sculpted, flawless legs seemed just endless in this skirt, and she was so slim, just like a doll. In a denim jacket, with a backpack, she was like sixteen again, and her half-dried hair, wavy after a shower, turned her into some kind of princess. Physically, she literally represented the girl of his dreams. _What did he do to deserve to be with her?_

When she got into his car, he put a cap on her, which he prudently took from home (he was wearing the same one). Fortunately, he didn't need to explain why he did it. Zhenya was in a good mood and, having turned on some kind of pop radio, sang along with almost every song. He was surprised that she knew so many of the lyrics. The light of the setting September sun was dancing on her face, low wispy clouds were floating quickly across the blue sky, and everything seemed to be perfect. He was even willing to tolerate The Weeknd, because the way she turned up the volume and sang _I Feel It Coming_ knowing every damn word made him smile.

But, of course, things couldn't go on so rosy. She was in the dark for too long about where he was taking her.

She started to understand that something was going wrong only when she saw a completely unfamiliar suburb outside the window. A couple of minutes later they were at the entrance to a gated community hidden behind a massive high fence.

“Where are we?” she tensed.

“Almost at my place,” Yuzu replied matter-of-factly, as if he invited guests every day.

“At your place?! But you told me that we're going to have dinner …”

Then he turned to her, and her anxiety instantly caught his eye. For a second, she seemed upset to him, making him question his decision.

“We’ll have dinner at my place,” he explained as they entered the opened gate. “Don't worry, it will be even better. I'll take you back tonight.”

Zhenya looked at him worriedly and quickly averted her eyes. Today he was driving himself, which she found odd from the very beginning, but for some reason didn't give it much thought. And now—she didn't even know where she was. Looking back, she saw that the gate closed behind them. Outside the car appeared neat rows of similar, modern-style houses; the way they looked and the complete absence of their inhabitants reminded her some kind of a utopian society. Having concluded that it was already safe there, she took off her cap.

“Is everything okay?” His voice brought her back to reality.

“I don’t know.” She bit her lip. “You could tell me ... What will your mom say?”

“Oh, she’s not here now,” Yuzu said, waiting for the garage of a large gray house to open. “What, you're afraid of my mom? Don't you know her?” he smirked, but she was in no mood for jokes now.

She and his mom really knew each other and always said hello to each other when met at the Cricket Club. But that was common decency and courtesy. Would the Japanese be glad that they were dating? Zhenya doubted.

 _Stop, we are not dating,_ she immediately told herself. _What are you doing then?_ her inner voice asked, but she left this question unanswered.

“I'm not afraid of her. But I care what she thinks about me, about us …” she admitted, staring at her knees.

He had already parked, and they were sitting in the dim light of a spacious garage, obviously intended for more than one car, in silence. Yuzu took her hand.

“I think she likes you,” he tried to cheer her up. “She loves to watch you train. Not to mention your performances.”

“Is that why you invited me when she’s not at home?” Zhenya asked. The nervous smile on her face was alarming. “Have you told her about us?”

“No. Have you told yours?”

Zhenya shook her head.

“But if you want it, next time she will be here, and I … I'll introduce you properly. I'll tell her. I think she won't be surprised. She needs to sort things out in Japan before the Grand Prix series starts, so she won't be here until the end of the month. But after that …”

“As you wish,” Zhenya muttered, interrupting him. She opened the door and was about to get out of the car, but the seat belt, which she'd completely forgotten about, stopped her. It was awkward.

She didn't understand herself: either she was glad that his mom wasn't there, or upset. Thinking again what their families tell them when they find out. The fear that they won't approve. She herself didn't think that her nerves would play her tricks because of that.

Yuzu helped her with the belt but she remained seated, her eyes cast down.

“What's wrong?” he asked bluntly. Her long hair covered a half of her face, and he gently tucked it behind her ear. She looked sad again—he noticed it often after she returned from Moscow, after the Autumn Classic, and he desperately wanted to get into her head to find out what she was thinking, because she didn't say anything. “Come here.” Zhenya doubted for a couple of seconds, but nonetheless moved to his lap. “Tell me.”

“What can I tell you, Yuzu?” she sighed. Her warm breath on his neck and the way she pronounced his name gave him goosebumps. “That I'm slowly falling in love with you and it scares me? That I don’t know where this is going?”

He'd be lying if he didn’t admit that his heart really jumped at these words. Did she really say that, when he's been dreaming of acknowledgment their feelings are mutual? He took her by the shoulders and looked into her eyes. They were glowing even in the twilight.

“Everything will be alright. We'll be fine. I'll take care of it.”

“Yuzu,” she suddenly became serious. “If you break my heart, I swear I'll break your leg so you can never skate again. Do you get it?”

“I do,” he laughed. “But I'm not going to break your heart. I want you to be happy.”

 _Sometimes we don’t mean to, but still do,_ she wanted to say. But the next moment, he pressed his hot lips to hers, and she kissed him back.

“Let's go, enough sitting in the car,” he said, pulling away from her.

And holding her hand, he took her to his house for the first time, the place she was to visit many more times in the next couple of years.


	7. Gold and Butterflies

_September 2019, Toronto_

The Hanyu house was not at all what she'd imagined. For some reason, she thought that at least inside it must certainly be in the traditional Japanese style, and when she met the most standard North American design, she was a little surprised. He wanted to leave her in the living room, saying that he would make dinner for them, but she followed him. Volunteered to help, but he didn't let her, and in the end she sat and turned on the TV. But still, she was looking mainly at him, though he had a Discovery Channel and there was a show about black holes that she would prefer to anything else on any other evening ... but just not now. Because he rolled up the sleeves of his sweatshirt, and watching his hands with these veins showing through (her fad), she couldn't help but think about what else he could do with them.

“You like all this, don't you?” he asked. She froze, thinking that she got caught, but Yuzu nodded at the screen. He'd seen her more than once with books on astronomy and physics during breaks at TCC, but didn't quite understand what attracted her to such complex subjects.

“Oh, yes. But I've actually seen this before.”

“I don’t understand it at all,” Yuzu admitted. “What's so interesting about that?”

“I don’t even know … Everything?” She has never had to answer such questions. Even her mom gave it up a long time ago, having decided her daughter has a weird hobby.

“And still?”

She thought for a minute.

“It's distracting. Every time I read, well, or watch something about space, I just forget about everything for a while. You know, all these mundane problems?” she smiled. “They immediately become so small, insignificant. I just imagine how petty all this is ... on a cosmic scale …”

It seemed to him that she wanted to say something else, but Zhenya fell silent, thinking about something again.

“And also, when I'm afraid of something ... Have you watched the movie _Gravity_?” He shook his head. “I was just re-watching it the other day. Don’t know how many times I did it.”

“Your favorite movie?”

“No. It's not bad though. So, there is a scene where Sandra Bullock is left alone in outer space. All alone, and there is no one and nothing there. Can you imagine just an endless void? Sometimes, when I get scared, I think about it. Because in reality, apart from this, there is probably nothing scary in the world. You can cope with anything. Especially if you're here on Earth, and there're your people by your side.”

He listened to her attentively, while checking the salmon steak, which he'd just taken out of the oven. Her words raised only one question in him.

“And what are you afraid of?” Yuzu asked, of course not forgetting to tease her, “Well, aside from falling in love.”

She smiled at him shyly. “Most of all, probably, of an injury and being unable to skate again. It's not that I'm fixated on this—it's rather something that I'll live with forever. Something that you cannot forget.”

“This is explainable … and absolutely understandable. I have it in me too.”

“And one more thing …” she hesitated, as if deciding whether to say it, “I am afraid of the unknown. I don't know what will happen next, if I win something else in my life or not. I feel bad about that.”

At this moment, he turned around and put both his hands on the table at which she was sitting. He was clearly displeased with her words.

“You'd better get it out of your head as soon as possible,” he said sternly. “I'll show you what should hang around your neck. But let's have dinner first.”

***

“That's not all,” she said, examining the medals hanging on a special holder above the desk. She had a similar one but it remained in Moscow. Yuzu though could fall asleep and wake up with this view every day, and she was sure he liked it. “There should be more.”

He watched her thin hand rise and slowly run over the multi-colored ribbons. He found this picture terribly attractive and hesitated to answer, admiring with some unexpected pride how she touched his trophies. As if all his victories were for this moment—so that she could stand now in his bedroom and look at its tangible representation. He remembered that she was waiting only when she turned to him, slightly raising one eyebrow. “No. Not all, of course …” he muttered.

“Where is the Olympic gold?”

It was exactly what he wanted to get.

Zhenya curiously watched as he walked to a large closet against the opposite wall, opened its doors and sat down in front of the lower shelf. Behind his back, she couldn't see what he was doing, but soon heard some buttons beeping.

“You have a safe. You keep your Olympic medals in a safe,” she stated.

Yuzu rifled through it and pulled out the beautiful, painfully familiar pink and blue ribbon. When he turned around and stood up, Zhenya was already sitting on the desk, her slender legs swinging slightly. Her face didn't express any emotions, calm and relaxed, and only her large brown eyes, riveted on a medal in his hands, concealed something deep that he couldn't decipher yet. He walked over to her and held out his hand with the medal to her.

“I've already seen it somewhere,” she smiled weakly.

She tried to push his hand away from her, but he was, of course, stronger. Moreover, he was adamant when he quickly unfolded the ribbon and was about to put it on her neck but she quickly dodged it.

“Please don't.”

“Why? I just want to see how it looks on you. I think it will suit you.”

“You can google it,” she grimaced. “They photoshopped it a long time ago, you're late for a year and a half.”

“Zhenya,” he persistently but gently put his hand on her neck, and ran his thumb along her chin. “Please.”

She shrugged her shoulders slightly, lowered her head and immediately felt the weight of his medal on her chest. She couldn't explain to herself why, but it felt like it was burning a hole in her. There was something wrong in all this, this gold should not have been hanging around her neck.

But he seemed to really like it. He took a step back to examine her properly, and on his lips appeared a barely noticeable, satisfied smile, which always appeared as soon as he did what he wanted. He looked her straight in the eye, and then, as if noticing a wrong detail, got up closer to her knees again. His hand went over the back of her neck, giving her shivers, and stopped under her high ponytail that she did before dinner.”

“Can I?”

 _Do what you want,_ she thought. She nodded slightly, and he untied her hair, letting it fall down to her shoulders. Yuzu tucked a strand behind her ear, continuing to examine her very carefully.

His black eyes scanning her suddenly made her feel hot. No one but him looked at her this way. Of course, guys stared at her—sometimes as she was something to eat, making her want to hide herself, change into a veil, so as not to feel more of these glances. But with him—it was different. Although she was sure that he had mentally undressed her thrice already, perhaps the point was … that he was the one she really wanted to do this. So when his hand fell on her thigh, she readily spread her knees, letting him even closer.

And then he started kissing her, and because of the way he did it, she wanted to cry and scream at the same time, because neither he nor anyone else had ever done it like that before. It was tender and hot, sweet and very passionate. His hands were moving from her hips to her waist and back, causing more waves of heat in her body. When they finally pulled apart, he leaned back, studying her face again.

“You're all pink,” he smiled, stroking her knee.

“Really?..”

This remark only made her blush more. After these kisses, it was difficult for her to look straight at him; her eyelids were heavy and she wasn't sure whether she felt relaxed or tired, knowing only one thing: he made her feel good, and she didn't want it to end.

Zhenya leaned back on both hands, her eyes lowered. He gasped, some words in Japanese that could as well be a curse as admiration escaping his lips. His hand rested on her leg again. He was stroking her inner thigh, watching her face, and how her breasts rose from rapid breathing, and how she bit her lip, and he had never seen her like that. Vulnerable, hot, and beautiful.

“You have no idea what I want to do with you right now,” he said quietly.

“So do it,” the challenge in her eyes was provoking.

And he kissed her again, this time holding her as tightly as he could. She was literally very hot; his hand under the tank top on her waist could feel the heat of her velvet skin; his fingers, sliding along her thigh, seemed to get burned. At that moment he knew that he'd no longer be able to stop, and when her legs spread wider, letting him go even further ... it kind of confirmed that she didn't want this to stop, too.

“I think I'm going to explode,” she breathed.

He only smiled, satisfied, and the next moment she shuddered from his palm between her legs. He ran it over her wet panties—and then suddenly stopped, causing her protesting moan.

Yuzu pulled the hem of her top and took it off along with the medal, which, Zhenya had forgotten, had been hanging around her neck all this time. She remained in a snow-white bralette in front of him, skirt hiked up, but didn't feel any embarrassment—neither when he ran two thumbs over her chest, nor when he pulled down the straps from her shoulders, exposing her breasts. She liked how his eyes never left her, how he touched her, how he undressed. Knowing full well that after this there would be no turning back for them, she was ready to go for it, to step into this abyss … and fly.

And she flew. Closing her eyes as he kissed her breasts. From his palm between her legs. Because of how her body reacted to him. She couldn't even imagine that someone could make her feel the way he did.

He lifted her skirt up, pulled off her panties, and took her off the table, intending to move to bed.

“No,” she asked hoarsely, meeting confusion in his eyes just for a moment, “let's do it here.”

She grabbed the hem of his T-shirt but he quickly got rid of it himself, and then did the same with the rest of his clothes. He slid into her slowly, holding her slim waist, and instantly heard a short moan in response to his movements. She wrapped her thighs around his hips tightly, as if trying to become one with him, and buried her nose into his shoulders, all so tame with desire that it was driving him crazy. He quickened the pace, eager to hear her quiet moans that soon followed. She definitely liked it. There was only one thing … He couldn't see her in this position. But he wanted to—to watch every emotion on her face, to watch her body respond to his every action, and he murmured, running his hand through her hair, “Look at me. I want to see you.”

Zhenya obediently leaned back, placing her hands behind her back. The pulled up skirt and the bralette around her waist somehow made her feel a bit dirty, just like the fact that they were doing it on the table, but also turned her on. The heat in her lower belly was growing, and it seemed to her she was close to what she'd never experienced before. The moment he slid into her, she'd been already ready to explode, but now the climax was clearly close.

He was thrusting harder and faster now, holding her hips and not taking eyes off her face. He really wanted to see how she would look when she comes. Yuzu ran one hand over her flat stomach and gently squeezed her breast, causing pure pleasure on her face, then lifted her from the table abruptly and pressed into her some final harsh thrusts. Her body weakened in his arms, and her face distorted for a few moments, almost like she was in pain, but just as quickly relaxed. He sat her back on the table and, keeping eyes locked with her, finished on her thigh.

She looked amazing, just like he'd expected: flushed cheeks, disheveled hair, sparkling eyes—he wanted to remember this picture forever. He wiped the sperm off her leg with his T-shirt and, having pulled her closer, kissed her mouth again.

“You're perfect,” he breathed out as they stared into each other's eyes, his forehead leaned against hers.

She just smiled slightly and looked down, embarrassed by his comment. Her heartbeat still couldn't get back to normal, and there was such a sweet emptiness in her head that at that moment she couldn't find the words to answer him.

But he didn't expect any answer. He could see she was sleepy, even exhausted, but he liked it because it was his merit, though only partially. Remembering that, unlike him, she was at a practice today and must've been really tired, Yuzu helped her put on her lace bralette, picked her up and carried to his bed.

“Thanks,” she muttered.

She was getting really sleepy, hardly keeping her eyes open, and as soon as her head touched the pillow, she dozed off, curled up like a kitten. He sat next to her for a while, studying her beautiful face that made his heart flutter, then got dressed and went out of the bedroom to the terrace. It was almost dark outside, a slightly pinkish sunset fading on the sky. He inhaled deeply the autumn evening air and exhaled slowly, trying to calm his rapid heartbeat. At that moment, he felt incredibly happy—as if he has won everything in this life.

***

Zhenya was asleep for an hour and woke up, not quite realizing where she was and what time it was. She had the feeling that she slept for ages.

So, she was in his bed—she realized it very quickly, remembering how he carried her there. But where was he then? She couldn't see anything in the pitch darkness of his bedroom, but somehow could tell he wasn't there. Just in case, she fumbled around in the bed and made sure of that; then sat up for several minutes, remembering what they were doing before she dozed off. Her cheeks immediately felt hot from the flashes of memory, and she covered them with her hands automatically, as if someone could see her.

She wanted to get up, take a shower, but her eyes couldn't get used to the darkness because of blackout curtains. She rubbed her eyes, completely forgetting about mascara, but it didn't help and she decided to move blind. However, as soon as she put her feet on the ground, she noticed dim light coming in from under the door. This was her target now, and she moved in its direction, but then, as luck would have it, bumped into a bookshelf, painfully hitting her forehead. Zhenya tried to grab the shelf so as not to fall, but at the same moment two books fell under her feet. A couple of curse words escaped her lips.

At that very moment, the door to the room swung open and Yuzu appeared inside, blinding her with the light. She covered the eyes with her hand.

“Are you okay?” he worriedly reached for her shoulders, but making sure she was alright, couldn't help smiling at how she looked.

“Yeah, I just … It was very dark here, and I need to go to the bathroom.” She bit her lip. She was obviously a bit angry, but at the sight of him, her lips curved into a smile, too.

“Oh, sure. Let's go,” he said and took her hand.

“Can you bring my bag? And give me some clothes?”

She showered, washed off her makeup and dressed in his oversized T-shirt. He was waiting for her in the kitchen, and when she came out, barefoot, in this T-shirt, barely covering her ass, he drew her into a hug. The butterflies in his stomach were back in place when he realized that she didn't put on her bralette, but he didn’t let his hands go down to check if she was wearing anything else. This girl was already the cause of a whole lot of dirty thoughts in his head. He had to learn to control himself.

“Do you want anything?” He asked, still hugging her.

“No, it's too late for that.”

“Don't be such a control freak,” Yuzu smiled. “I can make a nice cup of cocoa for you. Wait … you have blood here,” he noticed and ran his thumb across her forehead.

“It's your fucking bookshelf,” she complained, wincing as she touched the scratch. She was in the shower when it started to bleed, but hoped it had already stopped. “And I would argue which one of us is a control freak.”

“Both?” he laughed. “But definitely not me today.”

Next thing she knew, he had in his hands a bottle of transparent liquid, cotton wool and a band-aid. Yuzu sat down at the kitchen table and patted his leg.

“Come here.”

She sat down on his lap, watching his actions with interest. They were so fast and accurate that, before she knew it, a band-aid was already on her forehead. He kissed her on the lips when it was finished.

“So … cocoa or hot chocolate?”

But she shook her head.

“That's not happening, don't even try.” But then her attention was caught by his mug. “And what's that? Is it matcha?!”

“Yeah,” he said, pretending to be unhappy when she grabbed his drink. “It's _my_ matcha with almond milk.”

“It _was,_ you mean,” she smiled innocently, taking a sip.

“It was,” he agreed. “I guess it will meet the same fate as my heart.” But she looked confused, and he explained, “You're going to steal it.”

“Oh ... you are such a romantic today,” Zhenya laughed. She finished his matcha and wrapped her arms around his neck. “So what are we doing now? I take it, you're not going to sleep yet?” He shook his head. In her presence, he didn't want to sleep at all. “And I've slept enough. We could watch something,” she suggested.

“We could,” he replied, stroking her bare leg.

He's been doing it for a while, but for some reason, just now, when he looked into her eyes, a mixture of his touch and gaze gave her goosebumps. The way her body reacted suddenly made her serious, her cheeks blushing again. It reminded her of ... desire. No, it didn't simply remind it—it _was_ a desire.

“What?” he asked with a smile.

“Nothing.”

“Do you want to tell me something?”

“N-no.”

In fact, she wanted, but didn't really know how.

“Don't lie.”

“Okay,” she smiled and breathed a short sigh before admitting, “That was great. I liked it … a lot.”

She didn't specify what she was talking about, but it was clear to him anyway.

“Really? I mean ... I noticed, but I'm glad that you said that.”

Something between them has changed at that moment, and now, the air around them felt hot, the atmosphere electrified.

“It wasn't your first time, was it?” he continued. It sounded more like a statement than a question.

“No. It wasn't,” she admitted and then fell silent for a while. “But it was the first time I felt good … the first time I came. And that's all that matters.”

He had to suppress his curiosity and focus on the warmth filling his chest after these words. Focus on her. Which wasn't difficult at all actually. Her perfect face with lowered eyes and long dark eyelashes was so close … and she was biting her bottom lip again. It was too much. His own lips found hers—gently, not rushing, but she deepened the kiss, running her hand through his hair, trying to press her body tightly into his.

“Well, if you want, we can not watch anything,” he gasped, “and do it again.”

Zhenya nodded, smiling at him with her eyes, and he got up with her and carried her to his bedroom.


	8. Self-Destruction

_End of January 2022, Toronto_

She hasn't skated for exactly fifteen days and hasn't gone out for the same period, surprisingly not feeling the slightest need or will to return. What seemed to her closest people the most difficult decision in her life, was made in a few minutes at the end of another failed training session. Perhaps, deep down, she'd been preparing for it for quite some time, but the decision itself was quick and even painless, because by the time it was made, she didn't feel anything at all, and especially her body that refused to obey her completely and that she could no longer torture.

In fact, she didn't even wait until the training was over. She was given a short break to get a grip ... And she did, just not in the way they wanted.

“Tracy,” she slowly skated to the coach, hugging herself with both arms. “I'm leaving.”

“Okay, rest well, darling.”

“No, I'm leaving … like, for good. I'm not coming tomorrow. And on Monday too. I don't see the point anymore.”

The reaction of Tracy, rather discreet by nature, made it clear that she was ready for it. Her kind eyes flickered only for a second, but she immediately pulled herself together. Of course, she saw everything; she and Brian both saw the condition she was in. Sometimes it seemed to her that they just made a bet how long she'd last, although it was quite disrespectful towards them. But in those days, her head was full of such thoughts. She could nonetheless still distinguish it from the sane ones, and every time she felt guilty for thinking this way. After all, to tell the truth, Zhenya knew that they, her only support in terms of career, have been through enough with her, and perhaps it was even more painful for them than for her, to see her like that. She could no longer torment them, give any pointless hope. But though they thought that day that she would finally stop suffering, it was exactly what she was going to do in the near future.

“Baby ... are you alright?” Tracy opened her arms, about to hug her but seeing her reluctance, just put them on her shoulders.

“Yeah, it's okay,” Zhenya didn't want long conversations. “I just have to tell Brian.”

“He's at the second rink but if you want, I'll call him.”

“No, thanks.”

“Are you going yourself?”

“No …” She wouldn't step foot in there, knowing whom she might meet. “I'll wait for him at his office.”

Tracy nodded, taking a key out of her sweatpants pocket, and handed it to her so that she wouldn't stand by the door. Zhenya was grateful her coach didn't insist on hugs and a talk because otherwise she wouldn't bear it, and she just left, muttering “thank you”. She felt the need to say so much at heart—it would be right, honest, necessary. But all that she managed to say, so as not to collapse right there, was one pathetic “thank you”. They will talk later ... they will definitely talk someday, but just not now. And then she waited for Brian that came just ten minutes later (apparently, someone called him) and told him the same.

He wasn't surprised either—or even worse, it was like he was waiting for it. At the same time, he didn't know at all what to say to her, which was so obvious that Zhenya even felt sorry for him. He seemingly felt guilty … but why? He couldn't do anything. Nobody could. To help her, at first they needed to figure out what was happening with her, but no one could understand that, including herself.

She didn't want to hug him. At that moment, hugs were associated with goodbye for her, but she certainly wasn't saying goodbye to Brian. She didn't know when, but she was sure that they would see each other more than once, so it was weird and silly to say goodbye. However, he hugged her himself and held her, perhaps, a little longer than he usually did and then asked, very casually: “Are you okay to drive? I could ask someone to take you home.”

“No need, I can handle it,” Zhenya said.

Leaving the club, she felt relief—and at the same time was close to a mental breakdown. This strange mix of feelings made her think she was going crazy. She got into the car and sat with her head on the steering wheel for some time; then tried to remember how to get out of the parking lot, but first—how to get the car started. Then did it, rather mechanically, barely feeling her hands. That was frustrating. Why could her hands drive the car automatically, while her legs couldn't automatically do what they had been doing all their life?

Outside, it was sleeting and the day was hopelessly gray and gloomy. A couple of times, on a turn, her car skidded a little, a couple of times she broke the speed limit, but it wasn't scary compared to what was going on in her head because that day, for the first time in her life, she thought that it would be nice to crash into something and die.

So, two weeks have passed since that very day, and a month—no, even more—since they spoke to each other for the last time, and her heart was still broken. Nothing's changed. The people that assured her it would get easier over time—turns out, they lied? Or too little time has passed? She was unsure, it was happening for the first time with her. She fell hard for the first time, then for the first time realized that it's love, and, as if it was the next logical step, her heart was broken for the first time. Well, it was rather predictable. Once, when she still had enough sanity, she understood that it wouldn't end well. He got "problem" written all over him. And she perfectly saw it, but still allowed herself to fall in love with him. How it was possible that she so thoughtlessly threw herself into some phantom romantic feelings, she didn't know now. But she definitely wasn't that strong girl that people thought she was. After all, if she was her, she would be able to resist her weaknesses and not indulge them.

But she was like a drug addict. Now, reminiscing how it all began, she saw it very clearly. For a long time, she didn't want to admit that they really were dating, and thought that could stop it whenever she wanted. Isn't it what drug addicts say? _I'm not addicted, I will get clean at any moment._ She thought so, too. Even when they started sleeping with each other, she was still sure that she could end it in one instant. It was supremely naïve. Perhaps she had a chance before sex, but certainly not after, because, however ashamed she was to admit it, she really liked what he did with her in bed, and liked it so much that there was no way she would give up on it.

Now she was laying on the bed all the time, not able to tell day from night, having buried her career and reputation with her own hands, and for the first time in her life didn't know how to live on, because everything that she had lived for suddenly disappeared, and the resulting emptiness seemed unfillable.

She stopped seeing a counselor that was found for her before the new year, as soon as she ceased to train. There was no point in him anymore, especially since he was unhelpful. She didn't want to interact with anyone: even with her mom, conversations were kept to a minimum, though she begged her to fly home. But she needed to be on her own, to lick her wounds, and every day she was getting convinced that for this, she would need much more time than she'd thought. And all alone she's been cooped up in her small apartment, the curtains always drawn, the bed always undone. In the hallway, the boxes of stuff from her old flat were already covered with a thick layer of dust, but she didn't have the energy to unpack it. Over the past two weeks, she has lost several pounds, but simply couldn't bring herself to eat like before. It turned out that, without skating, there wasn't anything else to spend energy on, so the need for food has greatly decreased; from a passive lifestyle she lost sleep. It seemed to her that she was gradually falling apart.

To be fair, she needed somebody's help, but didn't dare to ask for it, having decided that she'd make it alone. Nobody should have known how she broke. She couldn't afford to be seen like that. So she continued to self-destruct, beat herself up, and self-harm ... while in her home club prepared to become a champion the one whom she couldn't stop loving no matter what.


End file.
